A Mixup of Potions
by MargretKelley
Summary: After taking the wrong potion before a wild night out with her girlfriends, Ginny finds herself in a life changing situation.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Ginny woke to a pounding headache and a dry mouth. She groaned in surprise: she had taken a hangover potion before going out the night beforehand to prevent this from happening. Stumbling out of bed and into the bathroom, she made a mental note to call Luna and Hermione to see how well their hangover potions had worked.

As she reached for the glass sitting beside the sink, she noticed some things that were out of place. Frowning, she filled the glass with water and sipped it as she looked around. She kept a basket on the counter to put dirty vials in so she could wash them and refill them later: it was simply an old habit from her childhood that carried over since she made enough money to buy new vials to replace the used ones. She couldn't remember taking it out recently to clean the vials and brew up new potions to fill them with, but the basket was empty. There should at the very least be 3 vials sitting in the basket from the previous evening.

The second thing she noticed was that her previously dingy bathroom was sparkling. The Harpies had just lost the final game in the playoffs a few days ago, so Ginny had returned home planning to relax for a week or two then get down to getting her little flat back into order. Giving her head a small shake she saw the world spin around her and she quickly sat on the toilet seat and rested her forehead against the cool tile wall, dropping her glass, which shattered on the floor.

"Ginny? Did I hear you get up?" a voice called from far away. She heard footsteps in her bedroom, which quickened and Hermione burst into the bathroom.

"Ginny! What do you think you're doing out of bed?" Ginny looked up from the bathroom wall long enough to see a worried Hermione hovering over her before she felt herself being hauled to her feet by the muttering witch.

"What's going on?" Ginny mumbled, her tongue thick in her mouth.

"You've been unconscious for nearly a week," Hermione informed her briskly. "It took some doing, but after sifting through the used vials on your sink and we managed to determine that you took an outdated fertility potion instead of a hangover potion. Why on earth you would even have that in your potions cabinet is beyond me."

Ginny recalled the welcoming basket she had received from her teammates five years previously. It was purely full of pranks and other gag gifts and had included a very strong fertility potion. It was well known that Gwenog did not allow any of her girls to play should they be "in a delicate condition". She started trying to tell Hermione this but was quickly cut off.

"No, no, don't try to speak. The Healer's been around trying to figure out just what went wrong but wasn't able to find a way hydrate you properly. Your mother's been going spare and already sent over a hamper, but you aren't allowed to eat anything in it yet." At this, Hermione frowned and tapped a quill on the nightstand, transfiguring it into a mug, which she then filled with water and thrust towards Ginny. "Here, drink this. I need to go floo your Healer and tell him you're awake."

Ginny sank back into her pillows and gratefully sipped the slightly inky water her friend had provided. The whole situation seemed a bit bizarre to her: the fertility potion she supposedly drank was a bright purple, whereas the hangover potions the three women had drunk were a dark red. There could be no mistaking the two, so how did no one notice it? Why was she was tucked away in her bed at her flat instead of at St. Mungo's? She liked her bed well enough, far more than the lumpy cots that filled the wizarding hospital, but there was no way, even with her professional Quidditch salary, that she could afford a private healer.

A few minutes later, she had nearly finished her mug of water and heard commotion out in the lounge. "What do you mean I can't see her? She's my wife!" a voice rumbled angrily.

"Keep your voice down! She still has no idea what happened and we're still trying to figure things out!" she heard Hermione hiss.

"I'm afraid I must agree with Mrs. Weasley," a third voice interjected. "I must evaluate her condition myself since she has been unconscious for the past six days and this type of potion damage is very rare."

Ginny frowned after listening to this exchange. It sounded like someone was under the impression that his wife was in danger. She was certainly not married and hadn't even been seeing anyone since she broke up with Harry four years ago. Suddenly, her bedroom door opened and Hermione came in with an older gentleman in the standard lime green healer's robes.

"Ah, Miss… Ginny, it's so good to see you awake. How are you feeling?" he asked her kindly.

"Mostly like I forgot to take my hangover potion last night," she croaked out.

"I see," he said, nodding at her seriously. "I presume you have a headache, dizziness, lightheadedness, thirst, and possibly nausea?"

Ginny nodded. "No nausea."

"Well, that's excellent news!" he said, smiling broadly. "I wasn't even expecting you to be up yet, but it's good that you are so I can start you on rehydrating potions."

Ginny made a face. As a professional athlete, she was no stranger to rehydrating potions, but that still didn't make them any more palatable. She stopped the healer as he made to reach for her mug and mix the disgusting concoction with another mug of water. "No, I'll take the potion straight," she croaked hoarsely, reaching for the vial of bright yellow liquid in the healer's hand.

"If you insist," he said doubtfully. "I must warn you that it's awfully…"

Ginny didn't allow him to finish talking as she gulped down the contents of the vial and drained the rest of the water in her mug. "Mione?" she begged, holding out the mug.

Hermione still looked rather dazed from seeing her drink a rehydrating potion directly but absentmindedly pointed her wand in the mug and filled it with water. Ginny gulped down about half the water before coming up for air.

"How are you feeling now?" the Healer asked, a small frown marring his features.

"Better," Ginny sighed, glad to hear that her voice was no longer quite so hoarse. "I can take another one of those in 2 hours, right?" Seeing the healer nod, she sank back into the pillows. "I should be right as rain after that one then. Can I get something to eat?"

The healer squiggled his wand over her body, seemingly checking for any irregularities. He finished with a satisfied expression. "Yes, I suppose you'll be able to start eating again. I'll take Mrs. Weasley out to the kitchen to provide her with the details and I'll be back to check on you first thing tomorrow morning." He spun on his heel towards the door and Hermione gave her a small smile before following him. She could've sworn that she heard angry voices coming from the lounge, but her room quickly fell into silence moments later.

Several minutes later Hermione swept back into her room, bearing a plate of soup and some crackers. "I'm afraid this is all you're allowed to eat at the moment Ginny," she said. She pointed her wand at the paper Ginny had been reading and it turned into a sturdy breakfast tray, upon which she deposited the plate of soup and crackers.

Ginny stared at the tiny spoon she was given to eat the plate of soup with. "What happened to my poor spoon?" she lamented.

Hermione sighed. "First off, that's one of Rose's spoons, not yours. Secondly, doctor's orders. You have to eat slowly and he thought that would best be done with a small spoon. And," she looked at Ginny who was about to just tip the soup into her mouth, "that bowl is charmed. You must eat with that spoon otherwise the soup won't leave the bowl."

Ginny scowled at her best friend and sister-in-law but dutifully began eating. When nearly half the soup was gone, she decided to broach the topic of what she had heard earlier. "So Mione, when you came back with the Healer, was there anyone else out in the lounge?"

Hermione sighed. "What did you hear?" she asked resignedly.

She shrugged. "Something about a sick wife, so I assume someone got lost in the floo and ended up in my lounge."

Hermione sighed again and closed her eyes. "No Ginny, no one was lost," she said slowly.

Ginny frowned. "Who was it then? It certainly didn't sound like any of my brothers."

"That would be your husband," Hermione said quietly, her eyes still squeezed shut.

"But I'm not married!" Ginny cried out, quickly reaching for her water since raising her voice had hurt her dry throat.

"You are," Hermione said firmly, finally cracking one eye half open, sensing no immediate danger. "And given how the two of you took matters into your own hands, there's absolutely no getting out of it, I've already looked up everything I can and there's nothing…"

"Hermione," Ginny interrupted. "Could you please get to the point?"

Hermione wrung her hands, looking more distressed than Ginny had ever seen her, even moments before her own wedding. "Well, you managed to get legally married by a Ministry official, despite the late hour. While I don't have much respect for him for that, I do respect that he refused to help the two of you make an Unbreakable Vow, locking you into the marriage, but that didn't stop you two from finding someone else to help you. I could've gotten you out of a marriage in a snap, but there's absolutely nothing I can do with the Unbreakable Vow in play."

Ginny's mouth, if possible, became even drier as the blood drained from her face. "An Unbreakable Vow? Please tell me, Hermione, who's my husband?"

Hermione looked at her sister-in-law sympathetically. "Draco Malfoy."

_**Author's Note:**_

_Alright, so I dredged up this story from the depths of my hard drive. It's definitely not one of my better works, but I figured I'd throw it up here anyways. It's a three parter and will be updated daily. Hope someone actually likes it!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Draco impatiently stood up from the comfortable, yet ugly sofa that graced most of the lounge he was sitting in. His _wife's_ ugly sofa and his _wife's _lounge. He had finally come to grips with the fact that he had stupidly entered into a drunken marriage and had utterly no way other than death to remove himself from it. Of course he had only begun coming to grips with that fact about two days prior when Gra—_Weasley_ screamed herself hoarse, tears pouring down her cheeks, that there was _nothing_ to be done. He didn't want to believe her at the time – still didn't if he was honest with himself – but she was one of the top lawyers in the Ministry and a small voice told him that she was right. He hated that that small voice always seemed to be right.

Draco had had to deal with that Mu—ggleborn witch far more than he would've liked, but she had hidden them from the rest of the Weasley clan for four full days before the Weasley matriarch finally demanded to know what was going on. She had gratefully let on that Weasley, the littlest one who wasn't so little anymore and was now technically a Malfoy, had mixed up some potions and had gotten sick. She had quite thankfully left out the tiny little detail that Ginny was no longer Ginny Weasley and had skillfully managed to convince Mrs. Weasley that she shouldn't stop by, which would have revealed Draco's presence, as he had been _sleeping_ on the sofa in the lounge for the past week.

The rules had been wordlessly, but firmly established the morning he found he couldn't wake the girl he had been sleeping next to. He had contacted a Healer and the bushy-haired Weasley, who had both come running into the small bedroom trying to wake the witch. After many failed attempts, his nerves were shattered (what person's nerves _wouldn't _be shattered if suddenly you found yourself next to Sleeping Beauty?) and he collapsed into the sofa he was currently sitting on. The Healer had kindly handed him a bottle of hangover potion and began to explain what had happened.

His _wife_ had all the symptoms of taking a potion the night before that shouldn't have been mixed with any alcohol, let alone the large quantities she imbibed. Fortunately, Mrs. Ronald Weasley had supplied the highly useful information that Ginny (apparently his wife's vulgar nickname) was a cheapskate and rewashed potion vials. The Healer had then taken the three vials and promised to have them tested by the end of the day to determine what potion she had taken. Her two friends seemed to have taken the standard hangover potion because they felt quite fine after a night of over imbibing.

Later that evening, the Healer flooed and stated that the contents of the vials revealed that two (mostly) standard hangover potions had been taken, as expected, but the unknown potion was an outdated fertility potion. Draco had paled at that, but remembered that he had woken up quite uncomfortable that morning because he had slept fully clothed, so there was no chance of welcoming the Malfoy heir in nine months. He did, however, need to visit the facilities to empty his stomach as he realized that he would eventually need to produce an heir with the sleeping witch. The kindly healer had stepped through the floo after seeing his green tinged face and gave him an anti-nausea potion and a mild anti-anxiety potion. He really was worth the substantial number of Galleons Draco was paying him.

Suddenly, he heard noises coming from the otherwise quiet bedroom. He made to stand, but was forcibly shoved back down onto the sofa and barely registered the door to the bedroom quietly clicking shut. He got up and began pacing about, making a loop from the kitchen to the lounge and back again, until finally the door opened once more.

"Is she awake?" Draco demanded.

"Yes, she's trying to get up and about, but I told her to stay in bed. Don't go in there, I haven't told her about you yet."

"What do you mean I can't go in there?" he nearly roared. "She's my WIFE!"

"Keep your voice down!" Hermione hissed. "She still has no idea what happened and we're still trying to figure things out!"

"I'm afraid I must agree with Mrs. Weasley," the Healer interjected, wringing his hands. "I must evaluate her condition myself since she has been unconscious for the past six days and this specific type of potion damage is very rare."

The bushy haired, formerly bucktoothed witch marched off with the elderly Healer in tow and the duo disappeared into the bedroom with a click of the lock. Clearly he wasn't invited in. Draco grumbled when the low rumble of voices suddenly ceased and was replaced by pure silence, save the distant ticking of the clock on the kitchen mantle. He sighed and collapsed back onto the sofa. Not only was he not allowed _in_ the room now, he wasn't able to listen at the door to find out what was going on.

Finally, after what seemed ages but was really only a few minutes, the Healer came out of the room again. Draco quickly sat up on the couch and the Healer joined him after spending a few minutes talking with the Muggleborn in the kitchen.

"Your wife is going to be perfectly fine, Mr. Malfoy," the Healer assured him. "She's currently dehydrated and demanding food," at this Mrs. Weasley, Jr. strode out of the kitchen and into the bedroom balancing two plates in her hands, "and I've given her a rehydrating solution. She's due for another rehydrating solution in two hours and may take another one two more hours after that if she wishes. I gather she's no stranger to them so I trust that her judgment regarding them won't have her swimming away with excess fluids if she does choose to take a third."

"You're probably right, she is a professional athlete after all," Draco said dully. "I want to see her."

"Mr. Malfoy…" the Healer began.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me I can't see her!" he yelled. "I am her husband! I want to get this whole mess straightened out with her!"

The Healer made a noise of protest as Draco forced him to sit down on the sofa, wringing his hands nervously.

"Mr. Malfoy," the Healer tried again. "She's trying to eat and I'd really rather you not disturb her at this moment."

"Is there anything physically wrong with her?" he demanded.

"Well, aside from the dehydration, as I said previously…"

"Then I'm going in to see her," Draco said firmly. "I've waited damn near a week to get this whole mess sorted out." With that, he crossed the lounge in three strides and unceremoniously opened the door, only to hear his name.

"YOU!" Ginny roared at him, waving a spoon at him in a threatening manner. It was, however, the smallest spoon he had seen in quite some time, making it more comical than threatening.

"Yes, me," he said irritably. "Granger, would you please give us a moment to sort out this mess."

"What's there to sort out?" Ginny huffed as soon as Hermione had left the room.

"Well, obviously we're stuck together forever now," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "I, unfortunately, have certain responsibilities once I'm married and I'm sure you do too."

"What sorts of responsibilities?" Ginny asked warily.

"As my wife, you'll be required to attend social events with me. Balls, charity dinners, Ministry functions, and the like. It'd be better for the press if you moved in with me, though you'll certainly have your own separate suite." He shuddered before continuing. "And we'll also be required to produce a male heir sometime."

Ginny blanched at the thought of having a child, **a** child, never mind _children_ with the man who stood before her. She quickly took another spoonful of soup to fortify herself. "My own suite? I think I can live with that," she said carefully, taking another spoonful of soup. "Please don't tell me there's a timeline on when this kid needs to be born."

"We still have years," Draco assured her, grimacing again at the thought of having a child with the witch in front of him, who was sporting magnificent bed head.

"How many?" she demanded. "I'll get kicked off the team as soon as I'm pregnant," she explained.

"Mother will have my head, and yours for that matter, if you aren't at least pregnant within two years," he said uneasily. He saw her concern, it was highly doubtful that she'd be hired back to any Quidditch team once she had had a baby. It was already the height of impropriety that she was now a society wife and still playing Quidditch, but he was hardly going to force her to give up her career to sip tea with catty women every afternoon and organize lavish charity events with his mother. She'd have to do that one day, but not now.

"Two years?" she hissed, her eyes narrowed in fury. "You had better talk some sense into your mother, Draco Malfoy!"

"She's very strong willed… and Father spoils her. She's very used to getting her way, all the time."

Ginny harrumphed and crossed her arms across her chest. "We can have a baby," she shuddered, "_after,_ and only after, I finish my Quidditch career."

"Fine," Draco agreed. "But you're the one who gets to tell Mother."

"And, I suppose that since we're married now," she scrunched up her face at this thought, "you'll have to start coming to Sunday dinners at the Burrow."

Draco staggered back as if he'd been slapped. Seeing the entire Weasley clan every week in that hovel they called the Burrow? Death was looking more appealing every second.

"Fine," he said sourly. "I'm really not sure who got the worst deal here."

"Me, certainly," Ginny proclaimed.

"_You _get to live someplace decent for the first time in your life and you claim you got the lousy deal? You're mad."

"My flat is decent!" she protested weakly. It honestly was tiny and she was horrible at cleaning it so it was typically a pigsty. Living in a mansion with house elves to clean up after her sounded more than a little appealing.

"If you say so," he responded with an eye roll. "In any event, I expect you to move in by the end of the week."

She huffed again and tried tossing her soup in his face but it remained stubbornly in the bowl. "Argh!" she cried.

"Mature, Weasley," Draco muttered. "I suppose I'll have to see you later."


	3. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_**One year later**_

Ginny was flying furiously, the Quaffle clutched under her arm, desperately trying to dodge the Bludgers that had been flying mercilessly at her the entire game. She was used to having to dodge Bludgers since she was the best Chaser on the team and thus a prime target along with the Seeker, but this was particularly bad. It was the final qualifying game for the Quidditch Leagues of Britain and Ireland and they were currently playing the Appleby Arrows. She had managed to get tickets for her entire family, who were currently cheering her on enthusiastically, although her in-laws were considerably more subdued. Draco, much to her surprise, was cheering her on with great zeal.

_Crunch!_

Suddenly, Ginny saw stars and dropped the Quaffle as she grabbed her right arm, her throwing arm. Suddenly, another wave of pain flew through her arm again and she dully noticed a second Bludger had hit her arm. As she fell off her broom, she vaguely thanked whoever invented the charm to soften her landing so she didn't die on impact.

Ginny became aware of a wireless playing in the background of a very quiet room. She slowly opened her eyes and noticed Draco sitting by her bedside, his face buried in his hands.

"Draco?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

He sprang up, looking down at her. "You're awake," he said in surprise.

Ginny frowned as much as her tired body would allow. "How long have I been out?"

"Only about a day," he assured her. "Everyone's up in the tearoom, I'll go up and get them and be right back." With that he quickly disappeared out the door.

Ginny finally chanced a glance down at her arm, which felt oddly heavy. What she saw turned her stomach. Her arm was in a cast. The Healers only resorted to such Muggle measures when the break was too severe and complex to be healed with magic. She let out a frustrated sigh, recognizing that this almost certainly had ended her career as a Chaser.

Her relationship with Draco had evolved, but certainly not to the point where she was ready to have a child with him. They had quickly established an uneasy truce after a few nasty fights where she had accused his entire family of being dark wizards and he had accused hers of being impoverished blood traitors. Over the past year they had formed a friendship of sorts, but she really couldn't envision either of them as parents. She was quickly snapped out of her reverie as a loud, thundering noise approached her room.

"Oh, my poor baby!" her mother wailed, enveloping her in a bone crushing hug. Ginny winced, it had jostled her arm, which really, really hurt.

"Ow!" she cried out.

Her mother sprang back as if she'd been shocked. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking…"

"It's ok, Mum," she assured her, trying to ignore the still stabbing pains in her arm. "Just please, _please_ don't do that again."

A Healer in bright lime-green robes bustled in. "Alright, I need everyone out so I can examine Mrs. Malfoy," he said loudly. As no one bothered to budged, he repeated, "I need everyone _out_."

The large group left, grumbling and complaining loudly. Draco stayed by her bedside, glaring at the Healer, nearly daring him to force him to leave. The Healer glared back for a few moments, before giving up with a sigh.

"I suppose as her husband you can stay," he said grudgingly. "Alright, Mrs. Malfoy, your arm was broken quite badly, as I'm sure you can tell. We've been forced to resort to the Muggle method of doing things and performed surgery to place pins in your arm to help it heal correctly. As your Healer, I strongly suggest you no longer play Quidditch professionally."

Ginny groaned, this was what she had been afraid of. Draco, who was sitting to her left, reached out and squeezed her hand.

"It was my mother," Draco said quietly after the Healer left the room. "I told you she'd find a way to make sure you're pregnant within two years, so she made sure that you'd be forced to retire."

"She what?" Ginny asked, her voice deathly quiet.

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "She bribed and blackmailed both the Beaters of the Appleby Arrows to target you," he said softly. "Don't worry," he added. "I've already found us new suites in another wing of the Manor, so we won't have to be near her. You'll have to be polite to her in public, keeping up appearances, you know, but you don't have to be the least bit civil to her in private. It won't bother me at all."

"Damn right it won't bother you," she grumbled, nodding back off to sleep.

_**Two years later**_

Ginny smiled down at the newborn girl in her arms. "She's beautiful," a deep voice to her right said. A long fingered, pale hand came into view as it reached out to stroke the newborn's downy blonde hair. She was even more surprised to feel a gentle kiss to her temple.

Her marriage to Draco was far from typical. As they had agreed the fateful day that she had woken up, she had moved into Malfoy Manor, in a suite across the hall from Draco's. She had objected strongly at having to live quite so close to him, and just down the hall from his parents as well, but once again the iron will of Narcissa Malfoy was quite a force to be reckoned with. Draco had managed to forcefully override it when she pulled the little stunt ending Ginny's Quidditch career, but they had been unable to totally leave the Manor as they had hoped.

The Manor, though, Ginny had to admit, was much nicer than her tiny flat she had been living in before her marriage. The sitting rooms in both suites she had lived in had been larger than her entire flat and the beds were the size of her old bathroom. Unfortunately, now that she was a society wife, she was required to look prim and proper every time she went out. She did get to have new, beautiful dress robes for every function she had to attend. It was really amazing how many people wanted her picture.

"So what shall we name her?" the low voice murmured into her ear.

"I'm not sure," Ginny whispered. "I really was expecting a boy."

"Persephone?"

Ginny snorted. "Persephone? Really?"

"Well, what would you suggest?"

"Eleanor."

"Too common."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Fine, Minerva?"

"As in McGonagall?"

"Right…"

"Ilia?"

"That sounds pretty."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Ilia Ginevra Malfoy."

After stroking his daughter's head a few more times, he noticed Ginny was about to drift off again.

"You do realize what this means, right?"

"What what means?" she asked sleepily.

"We still have to have a boy."

**THE END**

_**Author's Note:**_

_Well, that's the end of this one! I'm glad to see that some people liked it. :)_

_I've no clue on what's done with broken bones other than keeping them stationary till healed. I get the feeling that if she had pins in her arm then she wouldn't have a cast, so let's say that the Healers put it in a cast to be more dramatic.  
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